


Show Don't Tell

by S_Faith



Category: Bridget Jones's Diary (2001), Bridget Jones's Diary - Helen Fielding
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 03:57:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5570140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_Faith/pseuds/S_Faith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe their first time together wasn't a knock-out-of-the-park home run* for Bridget at all, and she has to take matters into her own, er, hands… </p>
<p>(* to mix cultures in my sport metaphors)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show Don't Tell

It would not do. It wouldn't.

He was handsome; even now, looking at him as he dozed, in repose in the afterglow, was a treat for her eyes. He was courteous and kind, and a gentleman in every respect. Her knees had gone to jelly when he'd begun to kiss her, had very much enjoyed the way he'd touched her, the way he'd undressed her for their first time in bed together.

In short order, though, it was clear to her that he was utterly unaware of what he didn't know about women. He had found his satisfaction, but seemed completely clueless that the same was not true for her… and she didn't think him so uncaring as to deliberately ignore that she was still wanting.

He shifted, turning to look at her, managing a sleepy smile. "Hi," he said.

She couldn't help the flutter deep in her chest; she was smitten. Surely not all hope was lost. "Hi," she said, folding her arm under her head.

He reached over to brush tendrils of hair from her cheek. "That was…" he said, trailing off, cupping her face in his hand. "Mmm. Wonderful."

She offered a smile in return, and placed her own hand over where his rested on her face. She knew that she couldn't outright say she had not had full satisfaction—or that he had failed to notice same—because the male ego was, in her experience, more fragile than a spider's web when it came to constructive criticism of this nature.

It might be easier to show him.

Gently, she lifted his hand away from her face, and, without breaking their shared gaze, she brought it down until the pads of his fingers rested on her thigh, just on the tenderest skin on her inner leg. As she drew his fingers closer still to her, she pulled her lower lip between her teeth, then, with her fingers atop his own, she directed attention and pressure where she most needed it to be at that moment. He seemed intrigued, if a little confused, at what it was she was doing. Once she found the right spot, though, she drew in a quick breath, made a small circle with his fingers, eliciting a moan, causing her hips to twitch and her thighs to tense.

He was a very smart man with a quick wit and abundant intelligence; he could not have gotten as far as he had in his career if he hadn't been. That one small, simple action seemed to get his attention. He drew a logical conclusion based on the scant evidence that he had, and said quietly, more a statement than a question, "You like that."

"Oh God, yes," she breathed.

He began to move his fingers again, but they had drifted a bit from the target, so she moved her hand to correct his aim. "Right there," she said. "Right where it feels a little— _ah!_ —different."

"Hmm," he said, more a low sound in his throat than an actual word. "Right there?" he repeated, as he made a small circle again.

"Oh yes," she managed. "You feel it?"

"Yes," he said crisply. One circle became another, then another, a little faster.

"Harder," she gasped.

He did as she instructed; she cried out. He placed his mouth over hers to kiss her as he kept at it—all of that five-a-side had done wonders for his stamina, it seemed—and began to shift so that he was over her again.

And then, maddeningly, frustratingly, he stopped. Her eyes opened, questioned him without words; was something wrong? He offered a little smile, though, his eyes dark with desire. "I'm afraid I need to…" He trailed off. She understood, and nodded. Protection.

He took no time at all in this action, as if he were a man on a mission, and in a sense, he was; he was acting as if a whole avenue of opportunity that he had never knew existed was now open to him, and he meant to explore it from every angle. A quick and eager learner he was, which had clearly always served him well—and much to her delight, he seemed to not have taken offense at her gentle direction.

He rested beside her again, leaning over her, kissing her; his fingers traced over her skin, over her hip, to between her legs, finding that target again almost unerringly. She could not stop a moan from escaping her. He leaned against her, the pressure against her thigh undeniable.

She moved, too, to accommodate him. She raked her nails over his lower back as she returned each of his kisses, moaned with each circle he traced. She felt him turn, gasped, "Don't stop."

"I won't," he said, bracing himself with one arm, then thrust forward.

The difference between their first time and this time was as different as night was from day; her climax had already been well building, and after just a few thrusts, she came, crying out as she did. He made a few low sounds deep in his throat, drove powerfully forwards, then came again.

"I can't feel my toes," she mumbled, coming back down to earth to the touch of his fingers brushing the fringe away from her face.

He chuckled, then placed a kiss on the tip of her nose and then drew her up close to him. "I have to say," he began softly, "that was unexpected."

"Oh?"

"Mm," he affirmed. "I thought before that perhaps most women didn't like sex, but now it seems clear that they were just not able to articulate what they wanted." He pressed a kiss into her hair. "I very much appreciate that you are not most women."

She giggled. "And you are not most men," she said. "Honestly, I've never heard 'articulate' or 'appreciate' in pillow talk afterglow before." She nuzzled into his neck, kissing the pulse on his throat. "I'm just pleased you were open to direction." 

At this, he began to chuckle a little. "That's one way to put it," he said, then admitted almost sheepishly, "I guess maybe I don't know all there is to know about women's bodies, after all…" _Nooo_ , she thought sarcastically, trying not to laugh; _Really?_ "But truly, I want you tell me what you want."

"I think you can count on that. Hmm." She pushed herself up to look him in the eye. "Do you know," she said, "there's another wonderful, _wonderful_ spot I could show you and let you explore?"

He lifted a brow. "I'm intrigued."

She beamed a smile. "Oh, _goodie_." She then lowered her head and kissed him tenderly.

He brought one hand up to hold the back of her head; with the other he pulled her over to lie atop him, then ran his free hand over her backside, squeezing, until he pulled her leg aside to stroke her inner thigh.

_Hadn't meant right away_ , she thought, _but if he's game…_

He stopped again, though, sighing heavily. "We're going to have to do something about this," he said quietly. 

"About this?" she echoed stupidly.

"Look into alternative methods of protection, I mean," he said.

She nodded, then moved away, sitting up, to allow him to do what he needed to do. She rather liked the idea of not having to stop every time things got hot and heavy. Very much. 

"So," he said, sitting beside her, "about this spot you mentioned…"

She smiled impishly, then took his hand. Silently, she folded three fingers down, leaving the first finger extended. She then pushed the finger to curl it around, turned his hand palm up. He seemed confused, so she explained, "This is how you find this spot."

He seemed to realise what she meant. After thinking about it, he then asked, "Is it the only way?"

"No," she said. "Some positions are better than others for finding it."

"Ah," he said. 

Teasingly, she said, "There _are_ more positions than the old standard."

"I know," he said with a slight bristle.

She smiled, then drew her hand to cup his face. "Not that I haven't enjoyed the old standard very much," she said softly. "Baby steps, I suppose."

He smiled too, then dove to kiss her. "Shall we give method one a try?" he asked quietly, breathing hotly into her ear.

"Oh, yes," she replied with a sigh. She then climbed to sit on his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, then leaned to kiss him.

He brought an arm around her waist to graze his fingers against her backside; she then felt the finger pads of his other hand on her inner thigh.

He then brought his fingers to that spot he had just learned she liked so much, working in circles as he kissed her deeply, stirring desire within her again. She heard him make a lovely guttural sound in his throat as his finger slipped down further, into the wetness and into her.

"Oh," she said, breaking away, tilting her hips slightly up.

"Like this?" he asked, pushing his finger in, curling it with the palm up as she had demonstrated.

"Mm-hmm," she managed.

He applied a little more pressure, worked his finger back and forth. "How's that."

She groaned.

"What about this."

As he said this, he slipped a second finger in, pushing into the spot he'd seemingly found right away with such scant instruction.

"Oh. God. _Yes_ ," she whimpered, then came with a strength that surprised her, and seemed to surprise him even more with every cry she uttered. He withdrew his hand from between them, stroking her hips, pulling her close to him, evidence of his own stoked desire pressing against her abdomen.

"Ohhh, well done," she murmured, kissing him hard. "Well done, indeed."

"Mmm," he said.

"You deserve a lovely reward," she said, shifting herself up. She reached down to touch him, stroking the sheathed shaft, then cupping and stroking beneath it. He groaned. She acknowledged that she didn't know everything about the male body, but she knew enough, and every man she had ever slept with had been very receptive to what she was now doing.

"Darling," he said, struggling to speak. "I'm sorry but I need to…"

"Shh," she said, then held him in her hand in order to lower herself down. She was jumping the gun a bit in trying out a new position, but he didn't seem to mind overly much, particularly as his hands gripped her hips and pulled her down hard onto him. 

She rode his lap, tilting her hips as she did, placing open-mouthed kisses on his neck, biting the skin to the rhythm of his moaning. Then his arms went up around to her shoulders, holding her down; his hips thrust up into her one last time as he came with a long, low growl.

He leaned back into the pillows, taking her with him; she traced her fingers over the dampened hair at his temple, then reached to kiss him. "Well done," she said again.

"You as well," he said, closing his eyes, still painting for air; suddenly he sounded utterly spent. 

"Goodie," she said. "Glad you liked that."

"Oh, did I ever, darling."

"It was an educated guess," she said quietly. She studied his face, the handsome features she had come to adore; how had she ever not found him devastatingly handsome? "Promise me," she said, "that you'll tell me what you want, too."

"When you're such a mind-reader?" he teased. He opened his eyes again. "Of course I will, darling. But now… I think we could use a rest."

"Okay," she said. She was feeling pretty spent, herself and mutual education was, after all, meant to be an on-going project. 

Rome was not built in a day, after all… or even a night.

_The end_.


End file.
